


it was only a kiss (but oh, what a kiss)

by thirteenohtwo



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-10 19:36:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18414497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thirteenohtwo/pseuds/thirteenohtwo
Summary: Purple eyes roll up to the sky in such a dramatic fashion that it eases the tension in Beau’s gut. “Oh my gods, Beau, of course it’s dishonest. It’s literally dishonest. So, you want to makeout with me or not?”





	it was only a kiss (but oh, what a kiss)

As far as ideas go, this is probably one of Jester’s worse ones.

To be fair, when one has as many ideas as the tiefling does, there are bound to be some duds. And Jester has  _a lot_  of ideas. To be even more fair, even Jester’s horrible ideas generally tend to somehow work out, and so Beau doesn’t immediately turn tail and run after Jester rambles off her diabolical plot.

“Uh… I don’t know, Jes,” she mutters uncertainly, nails digging into the back of her neck.  _What a damn fool. This is literally everything you’ve ever wanted._ “Seems… dishonest.”

Purple eyes roll up to the sky in such a dramatic fashion that it eases the tension in Beau’s gut. “Oh my gods, Beau, of course it’s dishonest. It’s literally dishonest. So, you wanna makeout with me or not?”

“A compelling argument,” the monk laughs. Jester’s playful grin fades into something more of a pout and Beau groans. “Fucking fine, if it’ll get us off this street.”

“Cool, cool, cool. What colour do you wanna be?”

“I dunno, blue? Do you know if Fjord is coming down this street anyway?” Before Beau gets a reply, she feels her skin itch and shift. The chilly shiver run down her spine, and the burn of her muscles. She blinks and looks down at the red skin, her tail swishing around her ankles, and feels the scruff on her chin. “I said blue?! And this is the same dude Caleb made me, he’s gonna know!”

“Okay but have you  _seen_  how blue your eyes are against the red?” Jester challenges and already her fingers run along Beau’s chest where the robes fall open now that her boobs are gone. “And I made some differences, you look less like you and more like a stranger. As long as he doesn’t see your eyes.”

“What if he does?”

Jester’s tail slaps her thigh, dangerously close to her ass, and Beau jolts in place. “Beau, nobody has their eyes open during a romantic kiss. During any kiss. Do you kiss with your eyes open?”

It’s not something she ever considered before, and tries to think back. Her tail swishes thoughtfully and Jester giggles. “Shit, I don’t know. Is that weird? Fuck, can you send a message to Keg after this and ask?”

“Or I could just tell you after.”

“Oh, right.”

“Are you okay, Beau?” Jester finally asks. She laces their fingers together, bold blue against a burning red, nothing but concern shining up at the monk. “You seem flustered, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. We don’t have to do this.”

“No, what? I’m fine. Seriously, it’s nothing at all. Maybe I’m nervous? I don’t usually kiss friends.” Beau shrugs her shoulders, her trademark cocky grin hooking onto her face. Inner turmoil be damned, she’s drop kicking butterflies left and right. Fucking dumbass heart.

Purple threatens to burn right through her, Jester’s eyes narrowing in scrutiny. _“Okaaaay_ , if you’re sure.” There’s a moment, a lull, as if she’s waiting an extra second for Beau to back out… before she blinks and flashes a big smile. “Do we need to go over the plan one more time?”

“I’m a monk of the Cobalt Soul, you don’t need to go over the very simple plan again.”

“So Fjord comes down the street with Nott who knows just where and when to stop while she ‘decides’ where they go next,” Jester explains and ignores Beau’s huff and amused grin. “That’s when he will catch sight of me but, oh no, I’m not even paying attention because this handsome, roguish man has just swept me off my feet in a passionate, romantic kiss that is so spectacular it makes Fjord combust with jealousy!”

Beau makes less than enthused jazz hands, darting back out of the way of Jester’s playful punch. “Careful, Bruiser. Too much damage and I revert back.”

“Whatever, Beau.” Her eyes linger, trailing the defined outline of Beau’s new profile. “Can you kiss super romantic?”

“Fuck yeah.”

Her eyebrow raises skeptically.

And Beau points a red finger at her. “Wiggle that back down, I’m a fantastic kisser, Jes. You’ll see.”  _Or maybe I’ll pass out before we make contact._  Life is a gamble.

“Okay but we should - oh, there they are! Beau, flip your robes!”

“What? He knows what they - hey!”

A frantic mess of blue and dress, Jester tugs the robes down away from Beau’s chest to loop around her waist, yanking a shirt from her haversack to literally then yank down on Beau. Her newly black curls bounce atop her head, tangled in her horns, her blue eyes disoriented, and Jester can’t help but laugh into the kiss she drags her friend down in.

To her credit, Beau recovers fast. That can be said for just about every aspect of Beau’s life, she learnt how to roll with the punches at a very young age. Physical and metaphorical ones. It’s still not quite enough to prepare her for kissing Jester, however, not enough to keep her grounded when lips that taste like blueberries brush against her own. There’s a hesitant awkwardness there and Beau can feel her own creeping up but… but this is for Jester. This is what she wants. And Beau has never been able to say no to Jester.

So she raises a hand to brush her rough fingertips along a soft jaw, dragging them back around Jester’s neck to tangle in her hair. There’s a surprised and muffled noise that the tiefling makes before she melts into Beau, before chilly hands grip her thighs. Jester is clumsy - rough and strong with her uncertainty, and gods, Beau hates how much she loves that. She has to swallow her own groan and instead nip at Jester’s plump bottom lip, grinning at the giggle it produces.

But no.

This is serious.

This is passionate.

_This isn’t for you._

Beau steps forward, starts dipping Jester back and grunts when Jester digs her fingers into Beau’s hips. She flicks her tongue against Jester’s lip, ignoring the burst of stars and galaxies behind her eyes, desperately trying not to drown in the fucking strawberries she tastes.

This girl is literally made up of sweetness. Ioun help her.

When fingers leave her hips to dig into her back, when she feels herself reach the tipping point, standing on the edge with her toes hanging over… Beau steps back. Pulls back and takes a deep, steadying breath. Tells her heart to calm the fuck down before it jumps up out of her throat.

Jester’s eyes are still closed when Beau opens hers, her curly lashes fluttering before amethyst peaks up at her, a purple tint to those blue cheeks.

“Told you,” Beau croaks and clears her throat. Fuck, it’s hot outside. Or inside. Or maybe it’s the tiefling body? Does red mean hot? “Told you I can kiss.”

“Mhmm,” Jester hums and blinks a few times. “That was…”

“The fuck?!” Beau gasps and stumbles forward into Jester. She cranes her neck back to look down beside them, at the blue and red swirl their tails have become. “I, uh, whoops. I dunno how to untangle that.”

It takes a moment, where Jester just stares at their tails. Such a faraway look on her face - only for a second, before she blinks and grins and twirls away from Beau until their tails separate. “That was weird!”

“Does it not happen a lot?” Beau wonders. She’s always been curious about Jester’s tail and how deft it is.

Jester shrugs. “No. I don’t know. My momma used to tell me a story about twirling tails.”

It’s unusual enough when Jester doesn’t dissolve into the rambling story that Beau frowns lightly. “Well?”

“Oh, never mind that. It’s silly.”

“Since when has something being silly ever stopped you from doing or saying it?”

A blue finger is pointed her way. “That’s fair but - Fjord!” Jester gasps and holds her hands to her face. “Did he see? Is he looking?”

Beau lifts her head - and Jester drags her face back down, so close Beau thinks they’re about to kiss again. “What?” she asks when they don’t.

“He’ll recognize your eyes, you can’t look!”

This is getting ridiculous. “Then why didn’t you change them?”

“They’re too pretty, Beau, now peek over my shoulder slowly.” Beau has to clench her jaw, trying to block out the intoxicating scent of lavender and  _Jester_ , to peek over her shoulder. Her gaze doesn’t even make it across the street before she can feel Jester grinning.  _“_ _Beauregard,”_  she sings softly. “You’re blushiiiing!”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Beau sighs and steps back, straightening up again. “They’re gone. I don’t know if he saw, Jes. Sorry.”

The whole thing doesn’t feel half as good as it did a few minutes ago, not when Jester spins to look across the street with a crestfallen look on her face. “Oh,” she says quietly. “Oh. Okay, that’s okay. I’m sure he saw. I’ll just have to ask Nott later.”

Something awkward lingers between them and Beau’s fingers twitch before she reaches out to touch Jester’s shoulder. “You okay?”

“Hm? Oh, of course! Of course, Beau, I’m great!” she chirps and lifts up onto her toes. “And thank you for helping me, I know it was a little unusual.”

“’s fine,” Beau mumbles. Blows a curl out of her eyes and lifts her hand to try and fix it. “You gave me a lot of hair.”

“Sometimes when you let your hair out of the bun, it’s like a wave of tumbling curls,” Jester says around a smile. “You don’t look like Beau, but you’re still Beau. Just the tiefling version.”

The monk snorts and crosses her arms, a very different feeling without boobs. “So he totally would have recognized me then.”

“No, Beau!”

With a flick of her tail and a flash of her tongue, Beau pinches Jester’s cheek and takes off down the street when she gives chase.

**.**

**.**

**.**

 

“This doesn’t seem like a good idea.”

_“You_  don’t seem like a good idea!”

Caleb stares at her for a moment, a long moment, enough that she can  _feel_  the regret claw up her neck and wishes she’d thought of something better. Something witty and scathing, but she's nervous and excited and scared, and too many things all at once. Too much. This is too much. She should have said no. “Ooh, you sure got me,” Caleb deadpans and drops his head to stare down at his books again. 

In for a penny, in for a pound. Beau drops to her knees next to the table, hooking her chin on the edge, resting it atop her fingers that still somehow have dried blood caked in the nails. “No, but for real, Caleb, I need your help! Jester’s all out of spell slots today.”

“Taking away from the fact that this is the most ridiculous plan I have ever heard,” he says and leans back in the chair to hold up a finger. “I still think it’s a bad one. She should just tell Fjord how she feels.”

“In a perfect world, buddy,” Beau agrees sarcastically and with only thinly veiled hostility. There's a part of her that agrees - the reasonable part of her that values Jester's friendship above all else, that begs her to just sit down at talk to the tiefling... but there's another part. A small, bitter part that knows whatever  _this_ is, will end if she talks to Fjord. If Beau talks to her. The greedy bits convince her to enjoy what she has before it's taken from her - it's always taken from her. “That’s not really my concern. If I have to grow horns to makeout with a pretty girl, so be it, and she asked me so I even get to sidestep the guilt on this one.” 

Nott scampers up Beau’s back, nails digging into the monk’s skin and drawing a hiss of pain until she’s up on the desk. “I think it’s an excellent idea! Jester was telling me all about it, she got it from one of those books you gave her and it worked! All Beau has to do is pretend to be charming and handsome and roguish," okay  _ouch_ , the fuck? She's charming... kinda, "and soon Fjord won’t be able to contain his jealousy! He might even punch her!”

“I - okay,” Beau grumbles and points at the goblin. “I don’t like how excited you are about Fjord punching me. He’s one notch above Caleb and I’m, like, at the top with Yasha.”

Nott’s big yellow eyes roll away. “In your dreams,” she mutters under her breath.

Drama. Gods, he forgot how dramatic life gets sometimes. And how does he always end up getting dragged into it? By  _Beau_  of all people. Maybe if it were anyone but Beau asking… “Fine. You are going to do what you’re going to do anyway,  _ja?_ I will offer my help.”

“Wicked!” Beau pumps her fist into the air and pulls out a piece of paper. “Jester sketched this so you know what I’m supposed to look like. You’re a bro, Caleb.”

It only takes a moment for him to weave his fingers through the air, muttering a few incantations, before the human’s body begins to change and a stranger stares back at him with Beauregard’s eyes. “I still think this is a very bad idea!” he calls after her, watching as she springs up to her feet and bounds out the door.

“You’re wrong but thanks!” she hastily calls back.

When she’s gone and the room is silent, Caleb sits back and sighs. He glances back at the table, where Nott squints down at one of his books, and shakes his head. She looks up, grinning with her jagged, crooked teeth. “I suspect this is going to get messy.”

**.**

**.**

**.**

 

Things go… mostly well after that. Mostly. Jester gushes a little about Fjord but Beau is  _always_  tense and grumpy and Jester is mercifully oblivious.

Maybe a little too oblivious. It’s only the next day when she’s asking Beau to teach her how to  _“kiss super romantic, Beau! What if it was all you last time? What if I suck at it? What kind of fairy tale is that?”_

And oh, Beau wishes she could say no. Wishes that just once she could look into those big purple eyes and deny her best friend. But she’s weak and weary and Jester’s smile is too bright. And what’s the harm, really? Everything hurts anyway, might as well try to enjoy it a little bit.

**.**

**.**

**.**

“So,” Nott says one night when they’re all crammed around a table in the tavern. It’s been a while since they’ve had time to just sit and relax, to gather themselves. Where they’re not sprinting into battle or away from battle. “Am I the only one who saw Jester smooching it up with a stranger the other day?”

A piece of mystery meat gets inhaled and Beau slams her fist against her chest before it gets rammed into the table when Caduceus pats her back too firmly. “Oh, sorry,” he murmurs in that soothing voice of his. Beau holds up the universal  _okay_  sign and grimaces back. “I did notice that, I didn’t think it was my place to bring it up. Congratulations, Jester.”

Wide blue eyes stare up at him and Beau drags in more air. How the  _hell_  did he see them, he wasn’t even on the street?!

Jester catches her smile between her teeth, her cheeks flushing with a dark purple. “Oh, that’s… that’s just a new friend.”

“Are you sure that’s wise, considering our business in these parts?” Fjord asks, leaning forward to lower his voice. “Letting people close, I mean.”

A glint enters those purple eyes and Jester props her elbows up on the table, batting her eyelashes. “Are you worried about me, Fjord?”

“Yeah? We’re in some deep shit here?” he says as if it should be obvious.

Jester drops back in her seat with a scowl. “He’s perfectly safe, a perfect gentleman! Not, not  _the_  Gentleman, that would be creepy. Just a regular one. But not super regular, not boring. He’s very exciting!”

Beau drops her face into her hand and Nott pokes Jester, coming to her rescue. “It was very romantic. Is he a good kisser?”

What?

Beau whips her head up.

There’s a shy smile as Jester fidgets under everyone’s interested gaze, her eyes not quite meeting Beau’s. “Okay but for real, he was a very, very good kisser.”

The table bangs and everyone looks down towards Caduceus and Beau… who tries to kick his shin, missing completely. But he glances down and blinks. “Oh, whoops. Sorry. Tall knees,” he explains to the others and Beau sags in relief.

Maybe this was a bad idea.

**.**

**.**

**.**

They kiss a lot, after that. Maybe too much or maybe not enough, Beau can never really tell. It’s only when they’re alone, locked away in a room they share. It starts out with nervous laughter and shy smiles, a tentative press of lips each time…

But eventually, it grows to the point that Beau is polymorphing before the door even closes, slammed back against it with only a second to catch Jester before they’re lost. Consumed.

Beau’s never been consumed before. Never  _felt_  like this before. Gods, what is happening to her?

She’s almost always Mystery Tiefling when they  _practice_. Some mornings she wakes up and wonders where her red skin has gone. Other days she curses the thought of having to work with horns and not tangle her own hair in them. It’s mostly nice though, she mostly likes it. Likes the way their tails intertwine, likes the thoughtful look on Jester’s face each time they have to untangle.

But Jester still won’t tell her the story.

And the next time there are no tails. It’s just the two of them, bruised and bloody, dragging their feet into the room and flopping on their beds. Beau doesn’t even think they  _will_  practice tonight, too busy trying to recover from the shitkicking without any spell slots left in the cleric.

She stares up at the ceiling, listening to Jester huff and puff across the room. Tries to ignore the fact that they’re alone, that each time they’ve been alone the in the past week, their lips have been locked. Tries not to think of violet eyes, tries to block out that sweetly cinnamon scent that follows Jester around like a shadow.

Not tonight. They won’t tonight. Jester has no magic tonight, it would really  _be_  them. Be Beau. And Jester wants Fjord.

But then she’s there, Jester straddles Beau’s lap with bright eyes that almost glow in the dark. “I don’t have any spell slots left,” she whispers anxiously, her navy curls falling down around her shoulders in an adorably messy fashion.

“Okay,” Beau mumbles back.

Her weight shifts, blue hands digging into the pathetic bed on either side of Beau’s head. A kiss so soft it pulls a sigh from them both, Jester’s cool lips brushing against Beau’s chapped ones. “Is this okay?”

It’s not. It’s not, it’s not, it’s not. It’s going to hurt.

It’s going to crush her.

“Yeah.”

**.**

**.**

**.**

Fjord says something equal parts witty and charming, Jester laughs with her whole body, and Beau wants to be buried in a box.

A deep box, preferably, room enough to sit up and move around because staying still sucks some serious ass. Deep underground, too, if she’s being given options. At least six feet of earth between her and anyone else, that’s what she wants. What she needs.

She fucking hates when Caleb is right.

She fucking hates that he’s usually always right.

“If it isn’t my favourite monk!” Nott crows and drops to the ground beside Beau. “How goes the plan? It looks marvellous from here.”

Elbow on her knee, Beau smooshes her cheek against her fist to stare out at her friends chuckling to themselves. “Perfectly.”

“Are you just incapable of being happy or is this an active choice?”

She scoffs and shoves Nott sideways, not even a little guilty when the goblin rolls through the dirt. “Can ya fuck off for me, Nott? Can you do that?”

“Someone’s sour.”

“I have a stick.”

Nott holds up her hands in surrender and gets to her feet. “You’d think your heart was just ripped out, looking at you,” she grumbles and turns to head off. Curiously, her foot pauses in mid-air, shoulders slowly scrunching up. “Oh no.”

“Seriously, Nott, just go-”

Yellow eyes peer at her, tiny green hands on the sides of Beau’s face as Nott studies her closely. “You  _like_  Jester,” she declares quietly.

“Shut up, no I don’t,” Beau scoffs again and ignores the hollowness of her own voice. The rough edge like it had been dragged through gravel.

For the first time in… well, maybe ever, Nott wilts with sympathy for Beau. “Of course not. My mistake.”

Stupid. So, so stupid. Beau coughs, pulling her face from Nott’s much gentler grip and wipes at her eyes. So fucking dusty out here. “Hey, uh. Did you mean it?” she asks and looks up at Nott’s curious gaze. Looks away again, to poke at the dirt. “Outside the tower. When you said I’m abrasive to talk to and to look at.”

“No!” The shout gains everyone’s attention and Beau flops back with a groan, willing Ioun or the Traveler, anyone, to strike her down. Nott wiggles her fingers at the others until they look away, dragging Beau back up. “I mean, to talk to, yes. Sometimes. You remember that tavern owner you made cry using only your words? Not to look at though, I was just poking. Look at you, all… big and… big.”

Beau snorts.

“Sorry. You humans all look the same to me.”

“Racist, but continue.”

It’s not their thing, being overly nice or affectionate with each other. Beau just isn’t the type, she’s only ever  _kind_  to Jester, her… affection dolled out differently to everyone else. Nott isn’t one for too much mush either, she’s a violent, truly peculiar mother to the group, only ever particularly soft with Caleb and Jester, but the two make due. Nott scrubs at some of the blood dried under Beau’s nose with her bandages, a horrifying smile on her face that looks like it takes too much effort to appear  _nice_  and not like a goblin snarl. “Tell me how to help and I will,” she says softly.

“Shoot me in the face or leave me to my misery,” Beau replies with a charming grin that hides too much pain. Her hand cover’s Nott’s. “But thanks.”

**.**

**.**

**.**

As it does, life goes on. Drama takes a backseat to danger and Beau focuses on the noses that crack and break beneath her knuckles, on the magic that’s hurled around the group like a deadly precision weapon. She focuses on the fight, always on the fight.

Not on the fact that she finds Jester’s gaze on her so often these days. It’s… well, she doesn’t know what it is. Maybe the end? Is Jester trying to find the best way to end whatever it is that’s happening between them?

The Gnoll’s elbow catches Beau in the jaw and she sees stars, she sees the stars through the grey sky above them, until she catches herself on her staff. Blinks until the world settles, and locks eyes with Jester all the way across the field.

Her breath catches at the fury on the tiefling’s face, watching her strike her hand out and the bright, crackling energy streak across and over Beau’s shoulder, lighting up the Gnoll’s chest.  _Crack, crack, crack!_ His ribs cave in and he topples to the ground while Beau twirls her bo around her shoulders. Jester’s snarl twists up into a grin when Beau looks back to flash a smile.

Maybe she doesn’t hate all the attention Jester gives her these days.

**.**

**.**

**.**

“You were right,” she groans outside Caleb’s door one night. Her shoulders still burn where Jester’s nails dug in, her lips still swollen from a rushed and rough  _practice session._ Beau slumps against the door, rapping her knuckles on the wood until it cracks open and Caleb peers through with bags under his eyes. “I was only in the realm of right.”

“What are you saying?”

She grunts and straightens up. “You gonna make me dump my heart out through a crack in the door, man? Lemme in.”

“I was sleeping.”

“And I’m dying, can you fucking open up?”

He sighs so heavily it heaves his shoulders, and Caleb stands back to open the door to the dark room. “Make yourself at home, Beauregard,” he mutters and motions to his tiny bed.

Nott rubs her eyes in the opposite bed. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“Do you?”

“No, but I’m not kicking in doors.”

Beau nosedives into the bed, sinking against the stiff mattress. “I like Jester.”

The other two exchange looks, leaning closer. “What? Are you saying words or just making noise?”

She lifts her head. “I fucking like Jester, okay? And she likes Fjord. And kissing her was really fun until it wasn’t and now it isn’t and my heart hurts.”

“Oh.” Caleb taps his fingers against his arm. “This is not exactly my realm of expertise,” he says and skims through the other members of the group. “Or anyone’s.”

Gods. They’re all truly romantic disasters, aren’t they?

Nott stretches her arms and legs, hopping down off the bed to scurry across the room and climb up into his. “Speak for yourself, some of us were happily married for five years before we were brutally murdered. I think it’s time for the ol’ Reversal… Ursal…”

Beau flips onto her side to peer at the goblin curiously. “I’m listening.”

“No-”

Ignoring Caleb, Nott grins and throws her arms in her air. “Do exactly to her what she’s doing to Fjord! Make  _her_  jealous, make  _her_ combust!”

“That is incredibly bad advice, you should just-”

Beau pops up, shooting a finger gun at Nott. “You’re absolutely right. The best way to get over a girl is to get under another one. She’s using me, why can’t I use someone else?”

“Not what I’m saying but I like the energy, do your thing!” Nott cheers and jumps on the bed a few times. She watches Beau charge back out of the room, waving brightly until the door slams shut. “We’re fantastic at matchmaking!”

“How… I’m very interested in meeting Yeza,” Caleb murmurs thoughtfully.

**.**

**.**

**.**

Turns out, it’s super fucking hard to meet people just off the street when humans are treated like the dirt caked to their faces. The city of beasts may not be the city of love, after all, and Beau is forced to be patient.

It’s moderately easier when she’s distracted; punching fiends and sealing rifts, hiding from rocs, or just having a lazy day out by a calmer portion of the river looking for…

“Grass?” she asks, lifting her face to squint up at Yasha in the light. “We’re looking for grass?”

“Moss, I think,” comes the soft reply. “It should be down here a little ways.”

Beau shrugs and falls in step beside the towering barbarian, skirting the edge of the river and balancing her staff. “So… how do you feel, you know, being back on this side of the mountains?”

“Conflicted, I guess. It’s painful…” she looks up at the sky for a moment, allowing a slow smile to twitch at her lips. “But maybe nice, too.”

That’s a load off Beau’s mind. One less worry as they run headfirst into a poorly planned rescue mission - no need to emotionally traumatize anyone on the way by dragging them where they don’t want to be.

“I think they call that closure,” Caduceus says as he drifts down the river next to them. A mass of… of grass and moss and wood beneath him, holding him afloat as he lounges with his long limbs dipping in the water. A serene look on his face to match his serene voice. “This is nice.”

Beau snorts, bumping her shoulder against Yasha’s arm as the three continue on. Their moment is only broken when Fjord elbows his way between them, keeping his face forward. “Which one of you shit in Jester’s bed this morning?”

“What?”

He hisses and drags his hand down horizontal in front of him. “Don’t look back!” he whispers. “She’s glaring holes in someone fierce up here.”

“Dude, it can’t be me, I’m in the middle of doing her the biggest favour,” Beau whispers and glances up at Yasha again. “What did you do??”

And the poor barbarian shrugs, an anxious look on her face. “I don’t know? Should I talk to her?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

She blinks at Beau and Caduceus, the former relenting. “Actually, he probably knows better. I’d go with his advice.”

As casually as she can, Yasha slows and turns around. She stops short, hand touching her heart, and slumps a little. “Oh, that’s devastating,” she mumbles at the look on Jester’s face before Fjord drags Beau along.

“Pretty sure it’s for you, bud,” he says with a grin.

“Me? What did I do?”

He shrugs, arm around her shoulder. “Couldn’t tell you but Yasha is a literal angel, I doubt Jester could actually  _be_  mad at her.”

“Well, then  _you_  should go talk to her!” Beau snaps and shoves him off.

“Why?”

“Because I’m mad at you!”

“Why??”

“Because I’m mad at me!”

He nods sagely and it just infuriates her more. How understanding and patient this dude is, how he always rolls with her sharp jabs. “Gotcha. Any particular reason?”

“Oh, the usual. I’m a dumbass.”

Fjord chuckles and brushes his knuckles against his jaw, working to tame his grin. “Have I mentioned how proud I am of you lately?”

“Is this your roundabout way of telling me to go face the fire and apologize for whatever I did that has Jester glaring?” she groans.

“Instead of piling it all on poor Yasha? Maybe.”

“Fucking fine!” she snaps and slows down, waiting for those two to catch up. Yasha gives her a reassuring, if not tense smile, and pushes on in a few long strides so that Beau can fall in step with Jester. She watches Caleb and Nott take up on either side of the barbarian, Fjord toss stones near Cad, and lets herself enjoy the peace of the moment.

“Word on the street is you’re mad at me.”

Jester perks up, even as they walk, hooking her arm with Beau’s to lace their fingers. “I’m not!” she insists earnestly with wide eyes.

Which… sounds fake, maybe. But Beau doesn’t know why, can’t think of a reason to lie. Other than she doesn’t want to risk a fight while Beau helps her make Fjord jealous? Dumb. How did she end up here? “You don’t…” she coughs and scratches the back of her neck, glancing down at Jester. “You don’t gotta worry about, like, pushing me away if you  _are_  mad at me. I’m an asshole so if I owe you an apology, just let me know.”

“You’re not and you don’t, Beau, I promise!” Some of the anxiety in her eyes fades and her steps become a little more rhythmic. “You know I’m not afraid of anything.”

“Dashing heroes never are,” Beau agrees with a smirk.

Jester pokes her in the side. “I’m not! I faced a dragon all by myself!”

“You did.”

“I think I was just grumpy.”

“I would be too if I had to face a dragon by myself.”

“Noooo!” Jester grins and pokes Beau again, her eyes dancing as she looks up at Beau from beneath her lashes. Something in the monk’s chest thuds painfully. “I meant today, earlier.”

“Fair enough.”

They keep walking while Caduceus scouts down the river for the moss they’re searching for. Jester twirls away in some kind of dance every now and then, though she always twirls back to Beau’s side. Caleb inspects a flower that Yasha shows from her book. “How come you didn’t ask Keg to come with us?”

Beau blinks. Looks down at Jester and the way she chews her lip. “Uh, I don’t know. She had shit to do? Her own stuff to work through.”

“Don’t you like her?”

“Yeah, she’s cool.”

“No, don’t you  _like-_ like her? You slept with her,” Jester clarifies, her brows furrowed.

The conversation feels as good as getting teeth pulled and Beau sighs, hesitates before her words so they don’t come out too sharp. “I’m not the  _like-_ like type, Jes,” she says quietly and ignores how her stomach drops. She's the one you use to make Prince Charming jealous, she's not the one who gets to ride off into the sunset. “I’m good for some fun… but not much else.”

“You don’t ever want something more?”

Something like a confession lingers on Beau’s lips.  _I want you._  The tranquillity of the day, the fresh breeze that carries hope and possibility with it, even the safety of their friends nearby. Knowing Caleb and Nott would be there for her when it all comes crashing down. It’s tempting, oh so tempting…

“Nott!” Fjord snarls and grabs for the health potion clutched in the mage hand a foot behind him.

Nott darts between Yasha and Caleb, back towards Jester. “Caleb needs it more than you! Jester, tell him! Caleb will go down if he sneezes too hard!”

**.**

**.**

**.**

Days and nights pass in a blur of lips and aching hearts. Mystery Tiefling has to climb out an Inn window to avoid nosey neighbours… and manages to land face first in front of a suspiciously amused Caduceus.

“I didn’t-” Beau coughs and deepens her voice, making it more gruff than usual. “I’m not, it wasn’t what you think. I treat her with the utmost respect and - I’m my own w… man, damn it. Good day, sir.”

She circles the block three times before the spell fades and she can drag herself back up to the room to find a sleeping Jester.

Honestly, the things she does for that girl.

**.**

**.**

**.**

Jester giggles against Beau’s lips and the monk breaks. She buries her face in the soft blue skin of Jester’s neck, feeling her chest shake with laughter. “These fucking horns…”

“They’re going to start charging you for the pillows,” Jester tells her fondly and snorts when Beau pulls back, the sad little pillow impaled on a horn. “Are you doing somersaults while we kiss? They mostly point backwards, how does this happen?”

“You think I know?” Beau groans and yanks the pillow off, blowing the feathers in the air. She leans back, straddling Jester’s thighs, and grins. “You didn’t have to make me so horny.”

The pillow pelts her in the face even as Jester giggles again. “You’re horrible.”

“And your tail is tangled with mine again.” A beat passes between them. Jester stares at their tails, the swirl of blue and red, for only a moment until she’s watching Beau. The monk grins, fangs and all, and Jester rolls her eyes. “You ever gonna tell me your mom’s tale of the tails?”

“A girl is entitled to her mysteries, Beau.”

Beau huffs, shoulders hunching, and scratches at her scruffy chin. “As someone who’s built an entire career out of digging up secrets and solving mysteries, this is literally killing me.”

“Woe is you.”

“You know, I could just figure it out myself. I’m a professional… uh, monk. This is what we do.”

A smile curls Jester’s lips. “I’m not sure that’s true but I’ll just have to distract you on the off chance it is.”

“My focus is legendary,” Beau warns.

And shudders when a mischievous tail starts trailing up her back, under her shirt. “Is that so?”

“Mhmm, even against cheaters,” she breathes and swoops forward. Fingers dig into the bed, her bottom lip dragging against Jester’s-

_“Assassins! Assassins!”_ Fjord’s shrill screech echoes down the dreary hall of the inn they found and. Gods. Just one night alone, that’s all Beau wanted.

One day without fighting. She’s been up for two days straight, just barely managed to scrounge up enough energy to  _practice_  with Jester who had been saving her last spell slot for this specifically. And now she has to go kick assassin ass while trying not to pass the fuck out on her way.

She just wanted to makeout with Jester for a little while.

“Beau, wait!” Jester gasps but the monk is already across the room, wrenching the door open. “You still look like-!”

Beau ducks under a rapier swing, her fist slamming into someone’s kidney. She waits for the grunt, listening to his panicked intake of breath as his muscles all lock up, and ducks around to the next darkened figure.

A bolt gets lodged into his face and he drops like a sack of potatoes. She turns in time to see Nott scramble between Caduceus’ legs, and ducks beneath the cloud of beetles that come pouring from his staff.

Tiny hall. Much too tiny, too hard to move.

She kicks off of Yasha’s knee, bringing her elbow down against the back of the orc’s neck, and then drags her own knee up into his gut. Yasha plunges her sword down through his back, pinning it into the floor and…

And it goes quiet.

As fast as the fight began, it’s over. Jester leans against the doorway, her eyes searching for Beau, widening with panic. Fjord wrestles around Caleb at the far end of the hall and also spots her. Him, technically. “You! You’re the only one who knows we’re here! Yasha, drop him!”

There’s no time to even try to lie her way out of this one. Beau looks up into Yasha’s grim-set face, feels the knuckles against her cheekbone and an explosion of pain the in back of her head as she bounces off the wall.

Her tail’s gone by the time she slumps to the floor, her vision going dark as red fades to brown.

_“Beau!”_  Jester’s gasp is the last thing she hears before concussion and exhaustion overtake her.

**.**

**.**

**.**

“By Ioun’s  _tits_ , that hurt,” Beau groans in a groggy, only half awake voice.

“Just tell each other how you feel!” Nott exclaims in exasperation.

A blue eye cracks open, blinded against the light. “I can’t do that,” she growls and forces the other eye open. Colours shift and blur together, blue - no, purple? A startled gasp somewhere in the room, and Beau rubs at her eyes. “Molly?”

“How hard did Yasha hit her?” Nott wonders with no small amount of worry. She crouches down, pressing her hand against Beau’s shoulder to push her back into the bed. “What year is it?”

“Would you even know if I was right? What year do  _you_  think it is?” she fires back and sits up anyway, leaning back against the headboard. The room swims and Caleb stands awkwardly in the corner, only making fleeting glances at Beau and never meeting her eye. She sighs and hangs her head, gingerly poking the shiner Yasha gave her. “So that went pretty much as well as I expected.”

“Caleb was right. You should just talk to her,” Nott says quietly and glances back at him, at the way he won’t look at either of them. “The truth is maybe the best approach, these schemes are just hurting people.”

Right. A fantastic idea. Beau scoffs and tips her head back, leaning it against the wall. “Sure, I’ll just march up to Jester, who likes  _Fjord_ , and tell her that I’m in love with her. That sounds painless.”

Caleb gasps, his eyes widening comically, and Nott reels back quickly. “Wait. Wait, hold on. No, I’m confused what to do, everyone shut up.”

The room falls into silence, both of them staring at the goblin expectantly.

She hums and taps her chin, glances at Caleb and scrutinizes him while Beau tries to force the room to stop spinning. “Okay,” Nott says slowly. “Okay. I feel like it’s still a scheme but tell us how you feel about Jester.”

“Have you not been paying attention?” Beau snaps weakly. “I need some healing, I gotta go find Cad.”

Caleb shuffles back away from the door and Nott scrambles after Beau, grabbing her sash and tugging. “Wait! But how do you know? Sometimes we get caught up on how we think we should feel about people! How do you know you’re in love with her?”

And Beau lingers in the doorway, her hand on the frame. She tugs her sash from little green hands and smiles sadly. “It’s Jester… how could I not be?”

Outside in the hallway, she passes Fjord’s room and pauses only a moment, only when she swears she can hear Caleb’s voice, and blames it on her head still swimming before leaving to find Caduceus.

**.**

**.**

**.**

She spends the entire night outside with Caduceus which isn’t really a whole lot, considering the time of night it was when she got punched. Yasha finds her somewhere in the middle of it all, a sincerely apologetic look on her face, but Beau is quick to forgive. Quick to forgive and compliment because damn, that was a solid wallop. She’s maybe even a little jealous.

But by the time the sun peaks over the horizon and an orange hue settles over the morning, Caduceus leaves to go make breakfast and Fjord finds her on the roof of the inn. He settles down on the edge beside her, a tired groan, and pats her shoulder once. “So.”

“Last night was maybe not my finest hour,” she says thoughtfully, still gazing out over this dreary corner of the makeshift city.

She feels him chuckle, more than hears it. “You think it was last night? Beau, look, taking away everything else, you need to sleep more. Yasha knocked you on your ass and you were out for like twenty-some-odd hours.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah. So hey, let’s talk about that,” he says in that casual way of his. In that charismatic, talk a pirate out of her pants, no, officer,  _we_  didn’t commit that terrible crime, way of his. The kind that has her lowering her defences because this is Fjord, this is her buddy, this is probably her best friend in the whole damn world.

And she’s been kissing his future girlfriend or whatever. Fuuuck.

“Listen, she likes you. She really, really likes you,” Beau says quickly and glances down at his boots. “That’s all this was - for you, practice and. Hell, man, you know I can’t say no to her. I was just  _helping,”_ her voice cracks and she swallows down the lump in her throat. Convinces herself she has angry tears or maybe needs to sleep still.

Fjord sighs and knocks his heels together. Hunches forward to look over the edge and give the monk some time to compose herself. “You’re a good person, Beau,” he tells her softly. “I’ve known you for a while and I reckon I probably know you better than most. Which is why I feel like I should tell you - in case you don’t know, in case you hadn’t realized it - Jester’s had you wrapped around her finger since that very first day.”

Beau blinks and squints into the light of the sun, raising her hand to make out Fjord’s blurry frame. “What?”

“I ain’t ever been in love, but I’ve seen it. Some of the boys used to go on and on about their girls back home during the longer voyages. You’ve got that same look in your eye.” He reaches out, a green finger going to wipe away one of her tears and - his lips twitch, a tusk peeking out right as he jabs her lingering bruise instead.

“You fuck!” she snarls and slaps his hand away.

He grins and settles back on his hands. Basks in the moment, in the morning. “Figure I should apologize for my part in this, minor as it may be. I could have been a little more clear with Jester, should have been more clear.” Fjord bumps his shoulder against Beau’s. “You’ve been hers from the get-go, I couldn’t be. Wouldn’t be. Can’t hurt you like that, bud.”

“Oh fuck off and go sweep her off her feet already,” Beau grumbles.

He laughs and pushes up to his feet. “I’m serious. I’ll go tell her now if you want, but I think maybe you should have a conversation with her first.  _After_  you go feed the freaky cats, you know, clear your head and all. Who knows where your mouth will get you, fresh off a concussion.”

A leather bag hits the roof next to her with a wet shlopping noise and she grimaces. “Fine. Okay. Food too, maybe?”

“Yeah, come on, let’s go,” he hollers and waddles to the edge of the roof by the fence where they climbed up.

Beau stands and stretches her sore limbs, slinging the bag across her chest. “Nah, it’s not a long drop and I kinda wanna avoid some of the awkwardness if I can,” she calls back and before he can protest, she steps off the roof.

**.**

**.**

**.**

_“Beau!”_  Jester gasps or shouts or cries, maybe, when she lands down below. It startles her enough that she whirls around, flinching into the side of the building in time for Jester to throw her arms around her. “You can’t leave me! You can’t leave us, nobody is allowed to leave or separate! We need each other, we need you. I need you!”

The air is squeezed right from her lungs and she grunts, her feet lifted from the ground. “Not… leaving… Jessie…” she rasps and drags in a big breath when the grip lessens.

“I didn’t mean to upset you!” Jester cries and looks up at her with big watery purple eyes. Beau’s chest constricts. “I don’t know how it got so messy, I was just trying to make Fjord jealous.”

Fucking ouch. “Yeah, I know-”

“But then you were, like, a really,  _really_  good kisser, Beau,” Jester continues, shaking her head as the gears turn faster and faster. “And I couldn’t stop thinking about it or about our tails, and then I couldn’t stop thinking about Momma’s story. And then I was thinking about Fjord and I kept thinking about you and that kiss, that really good kiss, and how his wasn’t even really a kiss! And I was worried that maybe I just like kissing or maybe I was confused, so I asked Yasha to kiss me!

"She had a wife, so she must be good at kissing. And good at kissing girls, and then I would know, but it didn’t taste like magic. Not that it was bad, Yasha is a  _very_  good kisser too, Beau,” she explains in a long-winded rant, very matter-of-factly. “But it didn’t make  _think_  and  _wonder_  about her like I  _think_  and  _wonder_  about you, so I asked you to help me practice to see what would happen and it just got better and better and our tails kept swirling - soulmates, that’s what the story was about, the swirl revealed the prince and princess as soulmates. Momma tells it better.”

“By the gods, are you breathing?” Beau questions as her eyebrows climb up her forehead.

As if just realizing Beau is still there, Jester blinks and looks up at her. And then scowls. Jabs her in the chest. “Beau! You said you weren’t the  _like-_ like type, and then you turned around and said you’re in love with me. That’s very confusing!”

“How-”

“I maybe panicked when you woke up and polymorphed into Caleb. I was healing you! Or… I was going to, but you were resting so soundly, and you looked so pretty, and I was asking Nott for help.”

Beau hooks her hands on her neck, staring up at the sky as her heart tries to beat through her ribcage. “Okay, that was a lot of words.”

“Oh, right. Yes. Sorry,” Jester agrees and steps back. Holds her tail in her hands to wring nervously, glancing up at Beau shyly. “Um, basically, I really, really like you. So you can’t leave, it’s selfish, but you’ll break my heart and I don’t want a broken heart, Beau.”

The monk stares at her for a long moment. A long, endless moment where blue eyes scrutinize her. And then she pulls the bag off, letting it shlop on the ground. “I was just gonna go feed Yarnball.”

Jester’s lips form an ‘O’ and her cheeks flood with purple. “I knew that,” she scoffs and punches Beau’s shoulder with forced casualness. “Of course I knew that.”

“Okay then,” she agrees with a languid smile and makes for the street, scooping up the bag again.

Jester wilts and huffs, marching after her. “Okay then? That’s it, that’s all you’re gonna say? Do you like me, Beau??”

Quick as a cat, Jester is pushed against the side of the wall, pinned between it and a grinning Beau. “Well, Miss Cheater, you already know the answer to that.” Her grin turns into more of a smirk, melting into the tiefling when she feels Jester’s tail wind around her thigh. “Are you really gonna make me say it again?”

With a hum and a grin, Jester boops her nose. “That depends. Do you really wanna makeout some more?”

“I fucking  _love_  you, Jester Lavorre!” Beau laughs and dips her head to steal another kiss. Jester’s tail tightens and Beau pulls back enough to study that face, the way the morning light makes her blue skin glow softly. She brushes a thumb along Jester’s cheekbone, over the freckles sprinkled across her face. The bubbly facade fades, the ditzy role Jester uses to make life just a little bit easier, just a little less sharp. Jester stares up at Beau, raw and pained, uncertain but hopeful. The girl who got taken by slavers, who couldn’t save Molly, who is so desperate to love and be loved by somebody that she chased the first man who smiled at her. Beau’s smile softens, sincerity smooths out the jagged smirk into something more genuine. “Jessie, I love you and I won’t leave you, whatever happens. Okay?”

“Beau?”

“Hm.”

Tears slip down her face and she smiles, a watery flash of teeth, bashful despite such a declaration. “Don’t flirt with Yasha anymore.”

“Oh-!” Beau snorts, painful in her still tender nose, and coughs harshly once. “You’re such a pain in my ass, you and Fjord both.”

Unable to help herself, Jester giggles, even as she presses against Beau’s chest. Tucks herself into the hug and squeezes gently. “I love you too, Beau.”


End file.
